Does She Love You? Page 3

  Nic blew out a low whistle. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Davis walked away, and Nic let herself enjoy the view one last time before the door closed. She lay back on the bed with one hand behind her head and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes until her cell phone vibrated on the table signaling she had a new message. Smiling smugly, thinking Davis decided she couldn’t wait until Thursday, she sat up and reached for the phone and readied herself for round two. Her heart thudded when the caller ID read Belle.

  With shaky hands she pressed the button to check the message and read, “I hope you’re sleeping soundly, but in case you’re not, I wanted you to know somebody out here is thinking about you. I love you.”

  Nic dropped the phone on the bed and covered her face with her hands.

  God. What have I done?

  Chapter Two

  Annabelle had been awake since exactly five thirty in the morning. When she had nothing to do, why couldn’t she sleep late? Probably because Nic wasn’t there, or maybe she wasn’t tired enough to need much sleep because she didn’t do anything all day. She tried to stay busy with weekly tennis dates with her sister, Liz, and almost as frequent movie dates with her niece, Julie. She tended some flowering plants around the house and would have taken care of the yard if Nic hadn’t hired landscapers and a lawn service. She sat on the board of the neighborhood association and remained active in her University of Georgia alumni circle. She would have happily taken on more, but there just wasn’t much call for lesbian housewives in suburban Georgia. There was no real gay community to speak of, and even if there were, Nic preferred them to stay away from “political issues” for the sake of her career.

  She’d spent an hour flipping through the one thousand channels Nic thought their television needed and couldn’t find a single thing to hold her interest, so at seven thirty she’d walked around the subdivision and watched all her neighbors leave for work. On mornings like this she regretted having left her job as a first-grade teacher. They didn’t need the money. Nic made more than enough to support them, so it seemed wrong to take a job away from someone dependent on the income. Nic had been proud to give her that kind of freedom, and at the time Annabelle had thought it would only be a matter of months before they’d start trying to get pregnant. Three years later and still no baby or wife at home to care for—had she made the right decision?

  Now sitting at the country club hours later she thought she was just being silly. She had a beautiful home, a supportive family, financial security, and a thirteen-year relationship with a partner who spoiled her. She would spend the morning playing tennis at a top-tier country club, then have her pick of five-star meals. She could spend the afternoon sipping a mint julep, sleeping in the shade, or shopping until she couldn’t walk.

  Still…

  A little voice in her head told her no matter what she did or how much she had, she’d sleep alone tonight. She told that little voice to hush.

  “Hey, little sister.” Liz’s voice pulled her back into the moment. “You ready to play?”

  “You bet.”

  “Be prepared for some aggression on my serve this morning. Jason blew off his night with the kids again. I missed my haircut appointment and can’t get rescheduled for two weeks.”

  “I’m sorry, hon. You should’ve called me.” Annabelle wasn’t surprised. Her ex-brother-in-law had never been as fond of anyone as he was of himself. “How’d the kids take it?”

  “Unfortunately they didn’t seem to mind. They’re used to him.” Liz blew back a strand of her blond hair. “Part of me just wishes he’d disappear for good.”

  “If you mentioned that to Daddy, I’m sure it could be arranged.”

  Liz laughed. “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it, but Daddy’s not the kind who’d let something like that go down quietly. We’d all end up in prison.”

  “True.” Daddy was a powerful man in their part of the state. A third-generation horse rancher, he had both money and Southern heritage. Not the kind of man who minced words or held his temper, Buddy Taylor had a soft spot only for his little girls and his grandkids. “And, let’s be honest. None of us look good in orange.”

  “It’s my fault for marrying an artist,” Liz said as they walked toward the courts. “I just loved his free spirit, thought he’d be so much more fun than one of these workaholic country-club types Mama always tried to set me up with.”

  “Oh, that type wouldn’t have made you any happier, Liz.”

  “Easy for you to say. That’s exactly the type you ended up with, and you’re happy.”

  Mostly, Annabelle thought. “But Nic isn’t exactly the type Mama had in mind.” She rolled her eyes. “She like to have fainted the first time I brought her home.”

  Liz laughed. “That was one for the baby book. You could’ve told her ahead of time that Nic was short for Nicole and not Nicholas.”

  “I figured she’d give me an earful if I told her in advance, but she’s too polite to actually be rude to a guest in her home.”

  “Well, you did peg that one right, but Daddy was a bigger risk. What were you thinking?”

  “I didn’t think. I was twenty and in love. I just didn’t see how anyone could just not immediately fall for Nic.”

  Liz shook her head. “I’ll never forget the vein popping out in Daddy’s forehead while he grilled Nic. You could just see him getting madder and madder when Nic answered each question flawlessly.”

  Annabelle would never forget that day either. Each interaction was so very dramatic, like one of those great Southern plays where everything explodes in the third act. Ultimately her father’s anger at the situation clashed with his inability to deny his baby girl anything.

  “And when Daddy took her for that walk to the barn, you looked just green, but I knew Nic had won,” Liz said. “Ever since then he’s treated her like any of the boys we brought home.”

  “And Nic’s the only one who continues to meet his standards even after all this time.” Annabelle smiled proudly. “I really am blessed, aren’t I?”

  “I never thought I’d say this back when you told me you were gay, but yeah, I think you’re the lucky one.” Liz smiled wryly. “If I didn’t love you so much, I’d be tempted to spare the tennis balls and just hit you with this racket.”

  “Okay, okay, give me a second while you get warmed up, and you can ace me all over the court.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that,” Liz said, walking ahead while Annabelle fished through her purse and found her fancy cell phone, another extravagant gift from Nic.

  She counted the rings before Nic’s voice told her to leave a message. “Hey, baby, I know you’re in meetings all day, but I just wanted to say thank you for being you. I don’t tell you this enough, but I’m so proud of you. I love you.”

  The message didn’t seem like nearly enough, but words would have to suffice for now. When Nic got home on Friday, she’d make sure to show her just how much she meant them.

  *

  “I don’t know, she’s the kind of woman who could really sweep me off my feet if I let her,” Davis said as she put a frozen loaf of garlic bread in the oven.

  “From what you told me she already did knock you off your feet and right into her bed.” Cass raised her glass of red wine in salute. “Have I mentioned yet how proud of you I am?”

  “Yes, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I could really fall for Nic if I’m not careful.”

  “Wait, that’s a bad thing? You said you wanted more than a one-night stand.”

  “I did, but there’s something about her. I can’t think logically when she levels those intense blue eyes on me.” Her heart fluttered in a mix of attraction and fear. “I can’t believe I slept with her already. I probably shouldn’t call her tonight.”

  “I’m confused,” Cass said, sipping from her glass of red wine. “The woman looks like an ad for sex goddesses, and she apparently has the skills to back up her marketing. She can hold a coherent conversation,
and you find her more than a little interesting, so…you’re not going to call her?”

  “She could hurt me, Cass.”

  “I thought you said she wasn’t into anything kinky.”

  “Emotionally.” Davis rolled her eyes. “She could hurt me emotionally, and I’m not sure I can go through another disappointment.”

  “And if you just blow her off, stay safe at home with your pasta out of a can and bread out of a bag, your life will be so much richer?”

  “I’ve just learned if something seems too good to be true, it probably is.”

  “So you’ll settle for something that doesn’t seem very good in the first place?”

  Davis sighed. “I hate it when you’re the logical one in this friendship.”

  “Me, too.” Cass polished off her wine. “You know you’re going to call her. Do I have to sit here all night and talk you through each step?”

  “No. I’m capable of dialing the phone, and as much as I want to pretend to be logical and guarded, the minute she walks in the door, all my planning will go out the window.”

  “Don’t analyze this to death. Just take tonight for tonight, and don’t let yourself think about happily ever after.”

  “You’re right. I can do that,” Davis said as convincingly as possible. “I’m going to call her. No, I’ll sound too nervous and needy. I’ll just text her my address.”

  “Good, play cool.”

  “Are you sure that won’t seem too slutty? I don’t want to be a booty call.”

  “You slept with her on your first date, so it’s not like modesty is an option for you.”

  “Thanks.” Davis pulled out her phone and typed a brief message saying Nic was welcome to join her for dinner at her place, then hit send. “Shit, I didn’t say who it was from.”

  “You think she has more than one unidentified woman in Atlanta inviting her to dinner?”

  “If so, then she’s no longer invited here,” Davis snapped. “Oh, but what if she thinks it’s a wrong number? Maybe I should send another text saying the last text was from me, but that wouldn’t seem very cool or casual or confident. Damn, why is this so hard?”

  “Because you’re making it hard.”

  Before she could come up with a clever retort, her phone buzzed. Davis glanced at the message on her screen and smiled.

  Cass raised her eyebrows. “What’d she say?”

  “See you soon.”

  “Uh-huh, I’m going. I don’t want to see the gooey puddle of mush you turn into when she arrives.”

  “I’ll be cool. I can do that,” she said, trying to convince herself as much as Cass.

  Cass laughed and hugged her. “No, you probably can’t, but it doesn’t hurt to try.”

  “I’ll do that, and I’ll call you tomorrow if I’m not too embarrassed by my behavior.”

  “No, please, give me the full recap, especially if you’re embarrassed.”

  Davis opened the door and pointed to the stairwell down from her studio apartment. “Go.”

  She closed the door and scanned the room. There really wasn’t much to see. The small kitchen was separated from the rest of the place by a bar. She had her couch set up to face the TV and provide a sort of barrier from the part of the room with her bed and dresser. The back of the space had a small enclosure with a bathroom. The whole place was tiny, even by Midtown standards, but since it was only her and she didn’t have a car, location was paramount. Finding this place right out of college had been a coup. The rent was the right price, and it hadn’t gone up since, even though the gays had gentrified the neighborhood. It had the added benefit of horrifying her family. They thought it was a dump and hated her living alone in the city. They thought everything about Atlanta was dangerous, and Davis loved that she thrived here.

  Was Nic a city dyke or a country dyke? Her clothes, her hotel, and the fact that she jet-setted between Atlanta, Boston, and who knew how many other places suggested she probably didn’t live in a six-hundred-square-foot efficiency above a pet-supply store.

  A knock on the door roused her from her musings. She took a deep breath and checked her reflection in the window quickly to see that none of her short red hair was standing on end. Just be cool.

  She opened the door. Nic grinned a sheepish little grin, her dimples sending a shot of affection-laced attraction right through Davis.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  “How was your trip?”

  “Fine. Cold.” Nic shrugged. “Businessy.”

  Davis nodded, trying to maintain her resolve. God, she’s good looking. “That’s what you went for, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  The silence stretched between them as Davis tried to decipher her conflicting urges to just shut the door in her face or rip Nic’s clothes off.

  “So…” Nic rocked on the heels of her shiny black loafers. “Do you want go somewhere, or do you want to, I don’t know, not go somewhere?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” Davis replied honestly. She wanted this woman, and that terrified her.

  “Okay,” Nic said. “Is there something I could do to help you along? Submit to drug testing, a polygraph maybe.”

  “Sorry, no. I’m being silly.” She stepped back to let Nic pass through. “Come in. Have you eaten?”

  “No, I’d just gotten to the hotel when you texted.”

  “Help yourself to the liquor cabinet. I’ve got some pasta cooking.”

  Nic poured an amaretto and Coke, reminding Davis that they shared the same drink. It was such a little thing, nothing she would ever put her trust in, but right now she wanted any excuse to believe she wasn’t making a big mistake.

  Nic perched on one of the rickety bar stools and looked around like she was trying to find something to comment on.

  “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

  “No, it’s you. Great location.”

  “Yeah, I don’t have a car, so it’s handy. Close to public transit, and I can ride my bike almost anywhere I want to go.”

  “Aren’t you worried about crime, riding alone after dark?”

  Davis bit her lip. The comment sounded too much like her family. “I don’t need a protector, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “No, I didn’t mean to imply that. I’ve just never met a woman who lives like this.”

  “It’s not for everyone,” Davis said, searching for something else to talk about. She’d had dates, and she’d had one-night stands, but their last encounter didn’t really qualify as either, putting them in this weird realm of uncharted relationships.

  Nic sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come over. We don’t really know each other, but after the other night it didn’t seem right to not show. Now I’m not sure. It doesn’t seem like you really want me here.”

  “To be honest, I’m not sure I do, or I guess I want you here, but I’m not sure I should.”

  “Fair enough. I’m not sure I should be here, if that makes you feel any better.”

  “I’m not looking to get into a relationship right now.” Davis didn’t know why she’d said that. She did want a relationship, someone to share her life with. When had she gotten too bitter to admit that? Like somehow saying the wish out loud would mean she had to face how far she was from achieving it.

  “That’s good. My life is complicated.” Nic seemed like she wanted to say more but struggled for the words, or maybe she struggled not to say too much. Could she have the same fears as Davis? “Yet here I am.”

  “You don’t have to explain.”

  “I feel like I should.” Nic looked guilty. “I don’t want you to think I’m one more in your long line of bed-wetting pyromaniacs. You’ve obviously been through a lot, and like I said, my life is complicated.” She paused. “But you’re beautiful, and I wish I could get to know you a little better, so I keep getting the urge to justify myself.”

  “If you tell me some sad story about your life and your job and your ex-girlfriend or whatever
, then I’ll have to tell you mine, and then we’ll feel a great responsibility to worry about wrecking each other, and I’m not sure I could handle any more worries.”

  “Wow. Okay then. So you didn’t invite me over here for some big declaration about where our relationship is headed?”

  “No,” Davis said, even though she did want to hear the answer to that question, or maybe she didn’t. She stirred the pasta and tried to keep her expectations low. “I’m barely convinced you’re not a park pervert, much less relationship material.”

  “Good to know.”

  Davis whirled back around and pointed the pasta spoon at Nic. “But this isn’t a booty call either, so don’t get any ideas about popping over for a quickie anytime you’re in town.”

  Nic held up her hands as her cheeks turned red, “No, ma’am, I wouldn’t ever make assumptions like that. I won’t make assumptions at all.”

  “Good.” Davis plated two helpings of spaghetti and slid them onto the bar.

  “So, no planning, no heavy talk about our pasts, no assumptions about our future? Just live in the moment?”

  “Yep.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever tried that before.”

  Davis took the garlic bread out of the oven and plunked it right onto the bar between their plates. “I’ve never been a go-with-the-flow kind of girl before either, but it’s not like planning has worked all that great for me. What do I have to lose?”

  Nic waited until Davis sat down beside her, then raised her glass. “Here’s to nothing to lose.”

  Davis echoed the toast but had to force herself to swallow the drink. Sitting there sharing a meal with a gorgeous, witty, understanding woman, she thought she actually had quite a bit to lose, namely her heart.

  *

  Nic drove the speed limit. Once she got off the jam-packed fruit loop around Atlanta she always did at least ten miles an hour over, but tonight she limped along in the far right lane. She’d already texted Belle to say she’d be late since she couldn’t bring herself to actually call. Nic had wrapped herself in a cocoon of denial while with Davis. She’d had every intention of breaking it off on Thursday night. She’d even planned what she needed to say. She’d started to tell Davis her life was too full, too complicated, and Davis deserved better, but somehow the speech didn’t translate to a breakup. Instead, Davis had set her own parameters. She didn’t want a commitment; she’d only wanted her company and, later in the night, her body.